So I'm swatting balls on Aurora Ave....Wait, that doesn't sound right. Let's try that again.
I was at the Puetz driving range in north Seattle practicing my swing (better? still a little gay?) when I notice a very well dressed man looking at me like I'm some piece of meat. This is Aurora Ave, after all. Then I notice that there's another, much less better dressed guy lugging a huge HD camera and monster tripod around.
"Ah, ha!" I exclaim (not really). "It's one of them there news shows I've heard about. Wonder why they're.....Oh, dear God. No! They're going to want to shoot me! And my wretched golf swing!" And they do. George Howell of KOMO was very nice. Asked if I wouldn't mind them shooting me while I hit a few.
I spend the next ten minutes under the unwavering eye of that blasted TV camera. My heart's thumping at 9,000 miles an hour. I'm thinking, "Everybody is going to see this. I'm going to look like a fool!" But I manage to hit it pretty good while they film. Even put four in a row into the big net I was aiming at.
At one point the camera man went ten yards on to the range and, like an idiot, stood just to my right! This is really, really dumb. Darwin Award kind of dumb. See, the most common mis-hit in golf is called a slice. It goes to the right. But whatever. It's not my liability. I'll gladly climb a tree and shimmy out onto a half-rotten branch dangling over a precipice looking down at the Snake river 150-feet below, but ain't no way, no how, I'm standing ten yards down the driving rang just to the right of a non-professional golfer. Hell, I won't even do it if Tiger Woods. Well, maybe him. But I'd wear a helmet. (And a cup.)
After near medical coverage of my swing (last time I had to pay a guy $200 to do that), they slapped a mic on me and dropped the bomb. "How do you feel about this Puezt being considered as the site for a new prison?"
Let's just say that I wasn't the most eloquent I've ever been. And they wanted me to talk while I hit balls! I can barely watch Wheel of Fortune and remember to breath at the same time. How am I supposed to answer questions about zoning and the impact on the neighborhood and the serious issue of prison overcrowding verses the difficulty of placing those prisons. How, I ask you. How am I supposed to answer this stuff, not sound like an idiot, and remember to hinge my wrists when I reach three o'clock in my backswing? How?
Long story short: It was supposed to air on the 6 o'clock news. It didn't. As far as I can tell I was bumped by this dog who got wedged inside somebody's truck. Enjoy!